Winter in Melbourne : Souvenirs

In retrospect, the trip to Melbourne was not as interesting as Adelaide, huh? It might be because it is winter; every turn of the street is a tree's nude party mardi gras. It might be because Melbourne is too much of a city; therefore some bare essential charms have to go. Time is restricted. As always. Things are expensive in Melbourne. Friends are clueless as to which tourism spots to go other than the commercialised shopping malls, Max Brenners and clubs. Time did fly. Yet the company was estatic. And this was the highlight of Melbourne.

Besides shopping. Look!

I am so strangely hooked on branded designs when I am in Melbourne, under some sort of a metropolitan spell to succumb to all things expensive and pretty. Which rocks are you living under for the past century if you do not know where #1 and #2 come from? I think we have Stussy in Brisbane. Some retail outlet instead of a boutique. But FCUK. FCUK I can guarantee you is not available in Queensland. I know, right? My Adelaide friends will go entirely insane if they end up in Brisbane with FCUK. Hee. The shirt is nothing spectacular but I have been itching to get one myself. It was a crucial moment, trying to figure out with line I should go for. I was not "too busy to fcuk"; in fact I have all the time in the world. Merely "fcuk" seems to be ripping me off with the same price as others with longer lines. "Hot as fcuk". Hmm. Not really. So "no fcukin' worries" it is. Because I would like to believe I am a carefree person. Maybe.

Stussy is just pretty. The signature label. I am some idiot because Penang does not have Stussy. I rarely see Stussy in real life. Only on television screens, endorsed by those annoyingly mixed VJs on MTV. Parading their betterment in your face like some irritating fly in a car. Stussy. Stussy. Stussy. But now. I have one. Nah actually, I am not such a wannabe. Serious. I am not in dire need. It is just a coincidental chance.

#3. military dog tags. I have been waiting for the perfect time to get a military dog tag. I never found a nice one back in Malaysia. And then, here in Melbourne's Queen Victoria Market, I found two stalls selling military tags with engravings. I could have just spent about $10 on one but call me idiot, I wanted engravings. How was I to know the seller's engrave-handwriting is shit. I stared at my engraved tags with such disdain and disappointment before I decided to purchase blank ones after all. Sometimes I do not like making decisions on the spot. A borned thinker will forever need to be a thinker for the rest of his life. If ever he acts on instinct, most of the time it is a guarantee mistake. Bummer. Maybe I will look for better engraver somewhere else. Like those working on tombstones.

#4. Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell. Yeah. I know. Weird timing to purchase above all things a fucking book. And it was not as if the bookstore had it cheaper than those monopolising bookstores. For all I know, that particular bookstore might have sold me the book more expensively. But I found it a good time to get it. I have been waiting to get it. Waiting for what? I have no idea. A good deal. A cheaper price. A friend to give it to me on my birthday. A stranger to slap it to me at the traffic lights. An angel to drop it from the sky. A devil to spurt it out from the water fountain. (What, you did not know Hell holes are hidden beneath fountains?*). I guess part of the reason is because I have already a handful of unread books waiting for my inspiration to dive me in. To add another to my list is just not doing me justice on reading. But my Eskimo friend could not stop recommending it. And the fucking book is staring at me at the bookshelf. It may not be probing: "Buy me! Buy me!" But more of my own mind going: "Get it! Get it!" So I did. At the highlands of the Great Ocean Road, in a cute little bookstore named Picador, single-handedly managed by a quiet woman in her late years, making coffee for a customer sitting outside waiting and ringing up my purchase on one of the most sought after literature readings ever.

#5. Handmade chick. Herein, I swear with all my heart over my family's grave that I do not have a weird fetish on chicks. Yes, I eat chicken. I adore eating chicken. I ate chicken six days a week when I was still staying with my parents. It is sheer coincidence I am purchasing another chick on my trip. It is something special, I guess. Handmade from sheer wound up coloured papers into something like that. They had more. Framed pictures of sceneries and mere butterflies. Jewellery boxes and tissue paper holders. Birthday cards and invitation lists. All with designs put together from these tiny resources. Handcrafted with such delicacy and carefulness.

#6. And he shall be called Lamb Chop. Soft toy. Sheep. It was just so adorable it is wrong to get me like a childish five-year-old girl. Kelene and I were so innocently fawning over these creatures. Shaking them and seeing their limbs idly waving along motion and giggling at the sight of that. Tilting its furry head in cartoon speed and laughing at its animation. Feeling its curly fur and squealing at its comfort. Hubert bought it for me as a belated birthday present. I slept with it in my arms since the day I returned from my trip.

#6. A bad angle I must admit. But I hope you get it that it is one of those old school prison keys. I got it while visiting the Old Melbourne Gaol. It looked cool. Pwned better than those Ned Kelly fridge magnets and handcuffs keychains. Granted I would have no good use for it in coming days seeing that it is just something to look at and hold. But I am not a big fan of keychains and magnets anyway. Do you just not find it frustrating when friends or relatives come back from a long vacation trip and you only got a fridge magnet or keychains? Maybe I can accept a T-shirt saying "My father went to London and all I got is this lousy shirt" (In fact, I have one) but those little knick knacks just dim the spirits a little. If not yours, definitely mine. And you do not know if it is alright to throw it away because it is from a friend. It will seem rude. It is rude. So yes. some old school key back in the old days, it is. It will be left on the shelf to collect dust.

* A complete utter horsecrap.